Heliocentrism
by The Quiller
Summary: Everyone sees the world differently. Namikaze Minato just sees the world a little more differently than usual. "It's not your chaotic evil alignment that's the problem, Orochimaru. It's just that if you really wanted to be Hokage, you shouldn't have made charisma your dump stat." (the Gamer!Minato AU you never knew you wanted)
1. A Protagonist is You

UPDATE: As of April 2, 2019, I have made revisions to the first three chapters, and am working on the fourth. Yes, after two whole years, this fic is updating again.

Heliocentrism

 _Prologue – A Protagonist is You_

 _In which our tale begins, even if it is not quite the actual beginning._

Being a shinobi, in all honesty, simply meant that you could tell common sense to fuck off, and common sense would listen. Most shinobi could laugh in the face of gravity by the time they hit puberty and had the poor law of conservation of energy sobbing in a corner by the time they hit their prime. Go even higher on the power scale, and you got shinobi who could twist the laws of the universe into squeaky balloon animals. At the truly absurd end of the scale, even death itself became nothing more than a hapless telemarketer who could be dismissed at will with a simple 'ignore call'.

Incredible, reality warping power came at a steep price though. That price was usually any sense of self-preservation, morality, reason, reasonableness, or general mental wellness.

In a nutshell, a shinobi's strength was directly proportional to their level of batshit craziness. Puny human brains simply weren't designed for superhuman feats, so sanity and godlike powers were mutually exclusive long-term investments.

Namikaze Minato was just a tad stronger than most shinobi.

It logically followed that he would be just a tad crazier too.

. . .

Fukui Toko had not set foot outside Konoha's walls in decades, yet she still had a more accurate grasp of the state of Fire Country than most active shinobi.

She was the matron of the village's largest orphanage, and her kids came from everywhere, from children of shinobi killed in action to refugees evacuated from the turbulent Iwa border. Her children were far easier to read than the heavily censored news that filtered through a shinobi village – she could find the truth in the hollowness of their cheeks and hear it in the cries of their nightmares. The cruelty of the world beyond the safety of Konoha's walls didn't surprise her.

The resilience of the children who survived it, however, never failed to catch her off guard. They always came to her a little offbeat, a little odd, but Toko had learned to take it all in stride.

The young boy currently sitting in the middle of the playroom was a little odder than most. He was a very quiet child, with loud dandelion blond hair and strikingly blue eyes that would probably break hearts left and right once he grew up. It was the third day in row he had spent hours just sitting in the middle of the playroom, repeating the same series of motions over, and over, and over again.

The boy had an old picture book that some kind soul had donated to the orphanage balanced across his lap. He opened it, glanced at the title page, and then closed it. ( _Your INT has risen._ ) He then opened it again, glanced down at the title page again, and then closed it once more. ( _Your INT has risen._ ) Again. ( _Your INT has risen_.) And Again. ( _Your INT has risen_.) And Again. ( _Your INT has risen_.) His dedication had long since left the territory of childish stubbornness and barreled into the realm of worrying obsession.

Deciding it was past time for an intervention, Toko knelt down next to the boy and asked kindly, "Would you like me to read that out loud for you?"

The boy shook his head, his bright hair catching the light in all directions like a sunburst. He continued opening and closing the book without peeling his eyes away from it for even a second.

"Well, would you like to read it out loud for me then? ( _New Quest! Regale Fukui-san with 'Adventures of the Fluffy Bunny'! Accept | Cancel_ )" Toko offered instead, hoping to appeal to the fierce self-sufficient streak she saw all too often in orphans.

This inquiry gave the boy pause. His head tilted slightly to the side in a contemplative pose before his face finally broke into a shy smile and he gave Toko a small nod. ( _ **Accept**_ _| Cancel_ )

He softly cleared his throat and held the book out in front of himself as far as his little arms could reach so that she could see the pictures too when he started reading. It was a simple book – each full-page illustration was accompanied by only a simple sentence - but Toko was impressed with the boy's fluency all the same. Many civilian orphans never became literate, and certainly never at such a young age.

When the boy finished ( _Quest complete! +10 Reputation with Konoha!_ ) ( _Your INT has risen._ ), Toko could have sworn she heard a soft chime in the back of her mind (- _Ding- Your INT increases to 41!_ ) and the boy's bright blue eyes almost seemed to glow even brighter. It was an off-putting sensation, as if she had just missed something very important, but it was also a feeling Toko knew well.

It wouldn't be the first time a child like this had passed through Konoha Orphanage. Fukui Toko had seen a lot of children come and go, and she trusted what her gut was telling her about this one.

Toko very gently patted the boy's head.

"You're Minato-kun, right?"

"Namikaze Minato," he repeated with a nod, and there was an odd tilt to his smile that Toko couldn't quite read.

It was only one of many things about Namikaze Minato that she would never quite figure out, Toko suspected. Children like this – who said little but thought much – were ill-suited to the humdrum of the orphanage, or even the peacefulness of a civilian life.

She scrubbed her fingers through his soft, sunshine blond hair and made up her mind.

"Minato-kun, how do you feel about becoming a shinobi?"

( _Prologue Complete!)  
(New Quest! Become an Academy Student!)  
(New Area Unlocked: Konoha Academy!)  
(Now Loading...)_

 _. . ._

 _Author's Note:_

 _There are already plenty of Gamer!Naruto stories out there that are written by authors a helluva lot more talented than I am, so I decided to try something different by picking someone else to dump all the video game shenanigans on, and play around a little with the point of view and overall plot structure._

 _Let's just say that this is not a story about Minato getting ridiculously strong (although he does do that), and more a story about the insanity that would ensue if he did, in fact, behave like a video game character._

 _The entire thing is outlined; we should be done in 15 chapters or so - which is a blatant lie because I always grossly underestimate these things - so hold onto your hats, because here we go!_

 _(Also, I'm in rather dire need of a beta reader with the patience of a saint. Any one up for it?)_


	2. The Obligatory Tutorial Dungeon

UPDATE: As of April 2, 2019, I have made revisions to the first three chapters, and am working on the fourth. Yes, after two whole years, this fic is updating again.

Heliocentrism

 _Chapter One – The Obligatory Tutorial Dungeon_

 _In which many people learn many things, but Namikaze Minato is not one of those people._

Akimichi Saburou had signed up for Academy to be an ass-kicking, name-taking god of war. No more talk of taking over his mother's restaurant, no more hiding behind Chouza-aniki when the other clan kids picked on him – he was going to be a real ninja. Enemies would be so scared they'd flee at the very sight of him. He was going to be great, no, better than great. He was going to be goddamn _legend_.

Unfortunately, he was also going to be asleep in his very first class if the teacher kept droning on like this.

"What makes you a truly great shinobi will not be how fast you are, how strong you are, or how many techniques you know," the teacher said, which might have been inspiring if it hadn't been delivered in a bland monotone. "It will be your resourcefulness, your teammates, and your inner Will of Fire." Saburou straightened in his seat and tried to look attentive as the teacher's gaze drifted in his direction, but he couldn't stop his eyes from watering as he fought down an enormous yawn.

' _I'm so bored. And kinda hungry. When's he gonna start teaching us real ninja skills?_ ' Saburou wondered. Hopefully within the next five minutes, because Saburou wasn't sure he could hold out any longer than that without giving in to the sweet temptation of sleep.

As if in answer to his prayers, a knock on the door interrupted the teacher mid-sentence. Frowning, the teacher aborted his lecture and opened the door.

It was a masked ANBU. Saburou could see several of his classmates straighten in their seats as a murmur of excitement rippled through the room. Saburou craned his neck to see over the people in front of him.

The ANBU made several quick hand signals that caused their teacher to frown, and then nod brusquely. He turned back towards them and said, "Remain in the classroom and talk amongst yourselves. This shouldn't take long." Then he formed a brisk hand sign as both adults disappeared in twin puffs of smoke.

The class immediately exploded into excited chatter.

"What do you think the ANBU is here for?"

"I bet there's a spy in the Academy!"

"Maybe the village is under attack!"

"Maybe Sensei was implicated in some kind of administrative oversight that caused a huge intra-village political scandal!"

"...what?"

"... he screwed up and now the important people are mad at him."

"Well why didn't you just say so?"

Before complete anarchy could set in, however, the oddest thing happened: small pink cherry blossoms began to fall all around them, despite the fact that they were indoors.

The sounds of excitement and speculation shifted into puzzlement and confusion. Several people tried to catch the falling flowers, but the petals winked out of existence as soon as they touched anything solid.

( _You used the skill: Observe._ ) "We're under a level two genjutsu debuff," said the blond kid sitting in front of Saburou. ( _Your Observe skill has risen._ ) It was the first time he had spoken up all day, and his observation was voiced in the same polite tone that one might observe that, golly, the weather sure is nice today.

So it took a moment for everyone to process that the weather in question was not, in fact, nice at all. It was a rain of illusory cherry blossoms that could kill them all.

"I don't suppose anyone knows the dispel skill?" added the blonde, looking a bit sheepish as he rubbed the back of his head.

Saburou didn't. And by the ' _oh crap_ ' expressions on all of his classmates' faces, no one else did either.

One kid burst into tears. The others made a panicked stampede for the door. Or rather, they tried to stampede towards the door, but their motions became more and more sluggish with every passing second, so it looked more like a spontaneous session of interpretative slow dance. One boy managed to wobble all the way into to door before sinking down into a boneless heap right in front of the exit; no one else even got that far.

Saburou would have gotten up to make his own break for it, but for some reason, his head was just too heavy to lift off the desk. Wait, when had he even placed his head on the desk anyway? And why were his eyelids drooping down? They were under attack! This was the worst possible time to go to sleep!

But his eyes were so heavy...

' _No,_ ' he mourned as his vision faded to black, ' _It can't end like this! I never got to become a legend. I never got to eat my lunch either! Momma's gonna say 'I told you so' at my grave...''_

. . .

...or not, because Saburou woke to a mouthful of rags, a splitting headache, and an incredibly uncomfortable knot of ropes digging into his back.

"Mmmffffmmmm!" Saburou swore, or at least, tried to swear despite being gagged and being limited to the vocabulary of a six-year-old. His first instinct was to scream for help, but alas, his mouth was stuffed with a yucky ball of cloth that muffled his voice. Plan B, curl up in a ball and cry like a baby, was likewise considered and discarded, because his eyes were too dry and itchy to summon up a proper sob session. Not to mention, it'd do zilch to resolve his current problem.

That left Plan C, which was to suck it up, ask himself WWND - _What Would a Ninja Do?_ \- and then do it.

A real ninja would probably get out of these ropes first, so Saburou looked frantically around the tiny cell for something that he could use to untie himself. Unfortunately, his cell was the most boring room ever, with four identical walls, a floor, a ceiling, a door, and little else. The only thing in the room was a trussed up six-year-old.

Which left him with only truly desperate measures, but desperate times and all that.

Summoning up all his ninja fortitude, Saburou began to chew furiously. Ugh, the rags tasted like feet. It was a small mercy was they were also old and tattered, no match for the teeth of a kid who drank a whole glass of milk every day.

He had just finished chewing through the gag and started gnawing on the ropes around his wrists when he saw two small hands curl around around the bars on the window of his cell door. A moment later, a rather familiar head of blond hair popped into view. It was the boy in class who had recognized the genjutsu.

The blonde peered into the cell for a moment before his face lit up with recognition. "Hello! Akimichi right?"

Saburou nodded mutely.

"Are you hurt?"

Saburou shook his head before remembering that he wasn't gagged anymore and awkwardly cleared his throat. He said, "No, I'm okay. Other than being, uh, kidnapped.."

The boy nodded understandingly and said, "Let's get you out of there then."

 _(Tutorial: [Lockpicking] To pick locks, use a lock pick item on the -_ )

( _Tutorial: Turn off tutorial messages?_ _ **Accept**_ _| Cancel)_

 _(Tutorial messages are now off.)_

He disappeared back out of sight, but there were a few jangling and scraping noises before Saburou heard the wonderful sound of a bolt sliding free ( _You have used the skill: Lockpicking)_. The door cracked open with a soft creak, and his blonde classmate slipped through the gap without a sound. ( _Your Lockpicking skill has risen._ )

He jogged across the room to help untie Saburou, not even flinching at the now slobbery rope knots. He made short work of them. In almost no time at all, Saburou was free to rub at his wrists, which were sore, but surprisingly not chafed. Weirdly, their captors had been nice enough to add a layer of cloth to cushion his hands underneath the rough rope.

( _Quest Updated! Allies Rescued [1/10]!_ )

Once he was free, Saburou murmured, "Thanks, um..."

"Namikaze," the boy answered, "But you can call me Minato." He led Saburou down a hallway to the right, then left, then another left, then right again. Then he pointed down the corridor and said, "I took out the guards at the exit, and I don't think they've respawned yet. If you keep going straight, you should be able to get out without running into anyone."

Saburou took two steps down the hall before realizing that Namikaze hadn't followed. In fact, his classmate had turned around and started jogging the opposite way.

"Wait, where are you going?" he hissed, not at all partial to the idea of braving the dark passageway alone.

Namikaze replied in the most matter-of-fact tone of voice, "To find the rest of our class."

"What? You don't - " Except, Namikaze had already proved he _did_ , or Saburou would still be trapped in that tiny cell. An ugly prickle of shame crawled up out of his gut and choked the words in his throat. He hadn't even considered the possibility saving his classmates. What kind of ninja abandoned his comrades? A garbage ninja, that's what. And an even worse friend. Chouza-aniki always said that Akimichi were born with big bones so that they could shield they friends. Not so that they could run away when their friends needed them most.

So Saburou found these words tumbling out of mouth instead, " - think I'd leave a flaky looking guy like you to do all the hard work, do you? I-I'm coming with you!"

Namikaze looked so surprised that Saburou could've punched him. Would've punched him, if Namikaze's gaze hadn't suddenly gone weird and distant like he wasn't staring at Saburou, but throughhim. ( _You have used the skill:_ _Observe.) (Akimichi Saburou LVL 3 HP 350/350_ ) ( _Your Observe skill has risen._ ). Then Namikaze blinked and his eyes were refocused so quickly that Saburou wondered if the strange look hadn't just been a trick of the light.

"You're right," Namikaze said with a soft laugh, "This was never meant to be a solo mission."

He held out his hand towards Saburou, and when Saburou grasped it, he could almost feel a ripple of strength and courage surge up his arm, filling his heart to the brim. It felt like he could do anything, conquer any foe, and come out stronger no matter what obstacles he faced. Saburou could almost swear he heard an odd chime in the back of his mind, as if fate had struck a chord. Whoa. That was _cool_. Maybe this was what the teacher had meant by the Will of Fire?

( _You have formed a new party!)  
(Akimichi Saburou has joined your party!)_  
 _(Gained: 'Power of Friendship' Buff! +10% Willpower, +10% Willpower Regen)_

Namikaze just smiled knowingly and said, "Sensei did say that teammates are what make us truly great shinobi."

. . .

Saburou had wondered where Namikaze found a lock pick, but that question quickly answered itself.

The answer was that Namikaze insisted on going into every single room and opening every single container while they were trying to _escape an enemy stronghold_. He would then pocket everything he found, no matter how useless it seemed, and somehow, his pockets never seemed to run out of space. So far, the collection included – but was not limited to – a rusty kunai, several shuriken, a spool of ninja wire, a bottle of suspicious pills, eight tattered rags, a blank scroll, a wooden flute, and a small action figure of the First Hokage, batteries not included.

Saburou would have protested, but by some kind of freak chance, the items Namikaze found always became useful in ways that Namikaze couldn't _possibly_ have foreseen.

After they found the flute and tattered rags, then ran across a classmate who had gotten free from his own ropes, but managed to sprain his ankle in an ill-fated attempt to break down his cell door.

( _You have used the skill: First Aid._ ) Namikaze promptly turned the flute and rags into a makeshift splint so that the boy could limp along with them. ( _Your First Aid skill has risen._ )

( _Quest updated! Allies Rescued [2/10]!_ )

They found a rusty kunai inside a rotting wooden box, and the next classmate they came across was a girl who had gotten free from her cell, but had immediately run into a rope trap that dangled her from the ceiling. ( _You have used the skill: Traps._ ) Namikaze had cut her free with the rusty kunai ( _Your Traps skill has risen._ ) and insisted on collecting the severed ropes from the trap along with him. ( _You have used the skill: Salvage_ ) He then tied those ropes back together to help the next wayward classmate they found climb out of a pit-trap. ( _Your Salvage skill has risen._ )

( _Quest updated! Allies Rescued [3/10]!_ )  
( _Quest updated! Allies Rescued [4/10]!_ )

Either Namikaze was the luckiest bastard in Fire Country, or he had some ridiculous bloodline limit that let him predict the immediate future.

At least Saburou got to watch his classmates undergo the same stages of bewilderment, outrage, and resignation at Namikaze's methods that Saburou had already undergone.

( _Quest updated! Allies Rescued [5/10]!_ )  
( _Quest updated! Allies Rescued [6/10]!_ )  
( _Quest updated! Allies Rescued [7/10]!_ )  
( _Quest updated! Allies Rescued [8/10]!_ )  
( _Quest updated! Allies Rescued [9/10]!_ )

Unfortunately, the more classmates they rescued, the more glaringly obvious the flaw in their escape plan became.

One small, scrawny six-year-old could easily sneak down a dark hallway without too much trouble. Two six-year-olds together would have a slightly harder time, especially when the second was an Akimichi, but it was still doable as long as they were careful.

An entire herd of sniffling, shuffling, whispering six-year-olds, however, was about as sneaky as a drunk elephant.

Their escape screeched to a stuttering halt when the corridor they were sneaking down intersected another corridor that was patrolled by a masked guard. A single kid might have been able to dart across into the shadows before the guard noticed, but with ten of them? Their chances of sneaking past unseen were even lower than their chances of making the old 'throw a rock to distract the guard' trick work on a trained shinobi guard.

' _What do we do?'_ Saburou mouthed, glancing at their fearless leader.

That was when Namikaze's eyes turned kind of terrifying.

They had that weird, unfocused look to them again, which hadn't been a trick of the light after all. But the look was accompanied by a cold, steely gleam that looked very out of place on Namikaze's round, childish face. The blonde motioned for everyone to stay in the shadows, and before anyone else could get a word in edgewise, he disappeared in a blur of yellow. One moment, he was next to Saburou, and the next, he had his feet braced against the guard's shoulders and his small hands planted on either side of the guard's head.

( _You used the skill: Assassinate._ ) He used his whole body to twist viciously to the left.

There was a horrifyingly crisp ' _snap!_ '

( _Your Assassinate skill has risen._ )

Then the guard disappeared in a puff of smoke. Namikaze landed lightly on his feet, dusting himself off and none the worse for the wear.

"Everyone okay?" he asked, turning back towards them with his signature smile back in place.

There was a beat before he received a chorus of mute nods.

No one felt like whispering after that. It certainly helped their stealth, albeit not their morale. Something about what had just happened was vaguely unsettling, the same unsettled feeling Saburou got when he ate something that had expired two weeks ago but still tasted fine. He couldn't help but feel kind of wary about Namikaze, which made no sense at all, because Namikaze done what a real ninja would do. He took initiative. He didn't hesitate. He protected his comrades.

And yet, Saburou still found himself jogging up to Namikaze and lowering his voice so he wouldn't be overheard by the others.

"Hey, uh...how did you know it was a clone?"

Namikaze looked taken a back for a moment, before he smiled sheepishly and said, "Technically, I didn't know it was a clone."

Saburou blinked. Then recoiled as the implications set it. Fortunately, Namikaze continued, "But the first guards I took out were clones, so I figured there was a good chance this one was too."

"Oh. Okay, yeah, that makes sense," Saburou said, as something tight unwound itself in his chest. He made it a few more steps before it occurred to him that Namikaze would have had no way of knowing that the first guards he dispatched were clones either, and Saburou found himself swallowing a lump in his throat as he snuck a sideward glance at his classmate.

Namikaze gave him a bemused smile and tilted his head questioningly at Saburou's gaze. Namikaze always smiled like that. Calm and measured, as if he were in perfect control of the situation. He was doing it on purpose, Saburou realized with a sinking feeling. Namikaze smiled to reassure his allies. Not because he was happy.

"Never mind," Saburou mumbled under breath.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

. . .

There were three more guards after that. Namikaze didn't take them down quite as viciously as the first, but he still moved so fast that the next two guards were already puffs of smoke by the time the rest of his classmates even realized there had _been_ a guard. One got a rusty kunai through the eye. The other was ignominiously shoved into the path of a falling log trap.

The last guard was the only one they had actually fought, and luckily, one clone was no match for an entire swarm of kicking, scratching, biting six-year-olds.

Unfortunately, after they dispatched the last guard, they turned the corner into a very familiar hallway. They were, in fact, standing in front of Saburou's cell, as evidenced by the pile of slobbery rags discarded in the corner – one of the few items that Namikaze hadn't bothered to collect. This meant that they had circled the entire compound and were still missing one classmate.

"Maybe he already got out," Saburou suggested hopefully. It wasn't impossible. Shimura Naoki would probably be Rookie of the Year if a freak anomaly like Namikaze Minato hadn't come out of nowhere.

Unfortunately, even Saburou didn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth, because there was still one glaringly obvious room they hadn't checked yet, right in the center of the compound. It had been blocked off with a big, scary door plastered in even scarier looking seals, and Namikaze had rather noticeably skipped over it despite his obsessive-compulsive need to loot every nook and cranny of the place. No one bothered to point it out because no one wanted to accidentally encourage him to lead them in there.

The group made one more circuit around the compound just to be sure, but Shimura Naoki was nowhere to be found.

They finally stopped in front of the big, scary door, and Namikaze had that distant, unfocused look in his eyes again as he placed one hand against it.

( _Boss Encounter: Shadow Dance_ )  
( _[Restricted Status: Solo] - You cannot proceed in a party._ )

"Saburou," Namikaze said, "do you remember where the exit is?"

Saburou, who had been psyching himself up to face whatever terrifying thing lay beyond the door, immediately bristled and said, "What? I'm not gonna run away!"

"That's good. Because you're the only who's big enough to carry Yajima," Namikaze said, turning his unfocused gaze towards the rest of their classmates. "He hasn't said anything, but he's wincing every time he with his left ankle." Then, in the most unfair, cheap-shot manipulative bastard move ever, Namikaze put his hand on Saburou's shoulder and said with that damned smile of complete faith, "I'm counting on you." ( _Your CHA has risen._ )

How do you argue with that, dammit?

Saburou swallowed down the lump in his throat and lightly punched Namikaze in shoulder. His voice came out shakier than he meant for it to be, but he still managed to growl, "You'd better be right behind us with Shimura's sorry hide, okay? If I gotta come back for you, I'll kick your butt after I kick theirs."

Namikaze smiled another one of his meaningless, reassuring smiles and gave a single, determined nod.

"Go."

( _Your party has been disbanded!_ )  
( _'Power of Friendship' Buff has been removed._ )

Saburou furiously rubbed the wet blurriness out of his eyes, shoved aside the hollow feeling in his chest where once there had been warmth, and led his other classmates towards exits, leaving Namikaze Minato behind.

. . .

Saburou ran faster than he had ever run in his life. It didn't matter if he had to carry someone with a twisted ankle on his back, it didn't matter that he was tired and scared, it didn't matter if he was hungrier than he could ever remember being in his life – a friend was counting on him, and the Akimichi didn't let their friends down.

He'd been trapped in this dark dungeon for so long that it took him a moment to realize what the sudden blinding whiteness was when he finally burst out of the exit and into the bright noonday sun.

It took him a few more moments of furious blinking before he could make out the blurry shapes in front of him.

"Sensei!" he blurted out, nearly falling over with relief. "Namikaze, Shimura, the big door, we gotta - !"

"Take it easy, Saburou-kun," Sensei said, kneeling to help steady him. "You did well. You passed the test. None of you were ever in any danger."

Saburou's whirling panic screeched to a dead halt. Finally stopping to glance around, he noticed the other Academy teachers standing around, wearing the same uniforms that the dungeon guards had been wearing. The masked ANBU was there as well. The familiar rooftops of the village stretched below them – the entire prison compound had been built into in the same mountain that bore the Hokage monument.

"But...what..." Saburou stammered for a moment, before several things that didn't make sense before finally clicked into place, "...he _knew._ "

No wonder Namikaze had been so calm. No wonder he found all the stuff they needed before they actually needed it. The teachers set it up that way on purpose.

Saburou took a step back towards the compound's exit, his hands already curling into fists that longed to be acquainted with Namikaze Minato's stupid, smiling, all-too-calm face.

His teacher caught him by the collar.

A different teacher laughed and said, "Don't be too angry with Minato-kun. I'm sure he kept quiet because he didn't want to ruin the exercise for the rest of you. You learned a lot, didn't you?"

Saburou thought about the determination he felt as he chewed through his gag. The hyper awareness as they tried to sneak through the hallways. The exultation as they found another classmate. And the painful, wrenching feeling in his chest as he left a classmate behind even as the weight of another classmate on his back. An Akimichi had a big body to protect his friends. Chouza-aniki said it a lot, but Saburou finally _got_ it.

"...yeah, I did," Saburou admitted grudgingly.

Even so, when Namikaze finally appeared from the exit, smeared with dirt and helping Shimura limp along, Saburou still walked up to him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He had his fist wound up and ready to fly, but the apologetic look on Namikaze's face said that the blonde was already prepared to be punched. Expecting it, even.

Somehow, Saburou found himself lowering his fist with an angry huff and shoving Namikaze backwards into the dirt.

"Just this once," Saburou declared, "Just this once, I'll let it slide. But if we're gonna be friends, then you gotta stop the hiding important stuff. _"_ Then he held out a hand to help Namikaze back up, asking, "So, we friends?"

Namikaze lay there, blue eyes staring up into the blue sky, his face morphed into that same expression of surprise when Saburou had first offered to join him in rescuing their classmates. He slowly sat up and stared at Saburou's extended hand for a moment, before saying, "Yeah. We're friends." He clasps it and lets Saburou pull him to his feet.

"Awesome," Saburou said, just as his stomach let out a thundering gurgle, "So…since we're friends, how about buying me lunch?"

Minato's smile cracked at last, bursting into a full laugh, a sound so bright and clear that Saburou can't help but grin too.

( _Quest Complete! Allies Rescued [10/10]!)_  
( _Dungeon Cleared [Rank: SSS]! +1000 Reputation with Konoha Academy!)  
(New Title Acquired: Konoha Academy Student!)  
(Achievement Unlocked: Untouchable – Complete an instance without taking any damage.)  
(New Quest! The Road to Genin!)  
(Now Loading...)_

. . .

"We've got a good batch this year, huh?" Shiranui Genta murmured as he leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on top of the table in the teacher's lounge.

Matou Yabuki made a noncommittal 'hm' and didn't peel his eyes away from the small television replaying the recordings from the pseudo-dungeon they had set up for the newest group of Academy students.

Nohara Rika looked up from the reports she was browsing for a moment and said, "They're certainly much better at teamwork than the class above them."

Genta snorted, "That's because all the big clans always try to get their heirs into the same class. With that much ego crammed into one room? I'm surprised the Academy is still standing."

"The Yamanaka and Akimichi heirs seemed to get along. Nara too," Yabuki murmured, still glued to the television.

"Bah, it's just clan politics, that's all," Genta waved it off.

"Still, it's impressive that this year's class managed to actually clear the exercise," Rika politely turned the conversation back towards the topic at hand before it could spiral into an argument about politics. "It's a mostly civilian class, isn't it? Akimichi and Shimura are the only clan children, and even then, they're both from minor branches."

"Akimichi did his clan proud," Yabuki said succinctly.

Genta couldn't help but agree, "A stout heart in stout body, that one. Stuck it out through the whole dungeon, and carried one of his classmates out to boot."

"Shimura performed admirably as well," Rika said, "He was the first out of his cell and showed remarkable mental strength despite tackling the exercise almost entirely alone. His basic skills are certainly a cut above all the rest."

"But still within reason," Yabuki muttered, "unlike this bullshit."

All three Academy teachers turned back towards the television. It was the second time they were watching it – the first time through, they hadn't been watching carefully enough to analyze it properly.

The final room of the exercise was actually a repurposed training room with a seal on the ground that would generate a more durable shadow clone of anyone who passed through the door. Experienced shinobi sparred against themselves to iron out their own weaknesses, but it served as a good lesson for Academy students too. The younger and less experienced you were, the harder it was to overcome yourself. Shimura Naoki was talented enough to land enough hits to dispel his clone, but only after a long and difficult struggle.

It was just bad luck that Namikaze had stepped into the room before Shimura had a chance to recover. The moment Namikaze's clone popped into existence, it had nearly put a kunai through Shimura's eye had Namikaze not hauled him out of the way.

Genta had begun swearing under breath and drafting up some safety revisions that needed to be added to the room's seal before they put another class through this test. No one expected this level of lethality coming from any six-year-old who just started at the Academy, but in hindsight, they really ought to have. Konoha was known for churning out prodigies, after all. It was almost their iconic national export.

Watching Namikaze's clone fight was like watching a taijutsu instruction manual in live action. Textbook perfect forms, chained together efficiently in a way that usually took shinobi years of live combat experience to learn. Sure, the Academy had seen stronger, faster, more powerful students, but they had never seen any kid who fought with such machinelike efficiency. The idea that Namikaze had taught himself this level of hand-to-hand combat from a textbook was a chilling thought.

Except, as he fought his own clone, Namikaze stayed strictly defensive, parrying, keeping his distance, and doing nothing but observe. He failed to capitalize on several chances to counterattack. It wasn't until the very end of the battle that he finally went on the offensive, and the reason for his hesitance finally became clear. He engaged his clone with a nearly perfect mirrored sequence of taijutsu, except, not quite. There were small changes – a slightly less extended elbow here, a shorter swing there, an additional half-step in the sideways dodge – tailored to better accommodate his own tendencies.

It was one thing to master textbook forms. It was another thing entirely to come up with personalized improvements during live combat and apply them on the fly.

"Should we graduate him now, or send him to Torture and Intelligence for impersonating an Academy student?" Rika asked in a completely serious tone.

"He's been in Konoha since he was eighteen months old," Yabuki said bluntly, "Not even Kiri starts them that young."

The small blonde on the television screen finally dispatched his own shadow double with rusty kunai through the eye. No hesitation, not even when driving a sharp piece of metal through a reflection of his own face.

Genta let out a low whistle.

"He's going to be a _monster_ when he's grown."

Rika made a soft sound of agreement.

Yabuki mutely picked up the remote, rewound the tape, and played it from the beginning once again.

. . .

 _Author's Note:_

 _Urgh, so this chapter was originally supposed to be half the length it currently is, because I originally wrote it entirely from point of view of the Academy teachers. It also covered Minato's entire Academy career up until the point where Kushina would have showed up._

 _Except I wanted to add some details about the Academy's hazing ritual from Saburou's point of view, and it kind of spiraled out of control. So. Uh. Sorry. No Kushina yet, or any other canon characters, but I promise they're coming!_

 _Saburou's name is shamelessly copied from Minato's teammate in 'The Girl from Whirlpool', by the way. I'm headcanoning that the rather pudgy teammate in the Team Jiraiya picture is an Akimichi named Saburou._

 _Also, we now have cover art! Here's a bigger version of it for anyone interested:_

 _ **http(colon)(slash)(slash)**_

 _ **imgur**_

 _ **.com**_

 _ **(slash)V5vKXsb**_


	3. Paragon, Renegade

UPDATE: As of April 2, 2019, I have made revisions to the first three chapters, and am working on the fourth. Yes, after two whole years, this fic is updating again.

Heliocentrism

 _Chapter 2 – Paragon, Renegade_

 _In which several people make hilariously wrong assumptions about Namikaze Minato's moral alignment._

According to his father, the Academy was for losers.

Well, alright, that wasn't exactly what his father had said, but Shimura Naoki had picked up the gist of it.

It only existed because a bunch of civilians had nagged and nagged until the village finally gave in and set up a school so that every kid would have a fair chance at becoming awesome shinobi. Graduation would be based on standardized tests, jounin teams would be assigned in a balanced manner, and if an oddly high proportion of the civilian kids ended up flunking out, well, that was just because they didn't have the talent for it.

Haha, what a load of bull. Naoki could see right past the fancy politics and grasp the truth underneath the underneath.

As if a civilian had any idea what 'fair' meant to a shinobi. Any idiot with a brain should have realized that no one would ever teach any truly valuable skills to anyone outside their clan. Even the Academy jutsu were all half-assed techniques that were only good for playing pranks or running away: henge was the poor man's version of a true genjutsu, kawarimi was for scrubs who weren't fast enough to shunshin, and the Academy clone was useless compared to literally any of the solid, elemental versions.

The Academy only served up half-baked imitations of true ninja techniques, smothered in a hefty dollop of propaganda. Worse, it meant that all the clan kids like Naoki who already had families to teach them the true ways of the shinobi would have to waste entire years of their lives just to keep the civilians happy. Worst of all, some of them actually started believing the bullshit the Academy taught them.

It was a good thing Naoki was a Shimura, and his clan didn't stand for any of that nonsense.

No matter how the Academy prattled on about the Will of Fire, the naked truth was that shinobi were weapons. Anything else was just a polite fiction to make the ignorant masses feel better. Shimura Naoki wouldn't let himself be fooled. He would become a true shinobi, like Danzo-sama, strong enough to walk in the shadows without ever craving the illusion of light.

Really, the Academy was just a chore that Naoki wanted to be over and done with so he could get to the cool part of becoming a _true_ shinobi. It had nothing to offer him. All his classmates were brainwashed idiots.

And yet-

 _And yet-!_

( _-Ding- Duel Complete!_ ) ( _You have defeated: Shimura Naoki LVL 10._ ) ( _+10 Reputation with Konoha.)_

And yet, contrary to everything Naoki knew to be true, Namikaze Minato stubbornly existed.

Namikaze Minato, a clan-less civilian orphan with no shinobi background whatsoever, had beaten him in every single spar over the past three years.

It would have been easier to accept if Namikaze Minato had at least some semblance of shinobi pride. But no, this was Namikaze Minato, who dutifully swallowed and regurgitated all the idealistic crap that the Academy spoon fed them. Namikaze Minato, who wound up doing all the class chores because he was too spineless to turn down anyone who asked him for help. Namikaze Minato, who was always smiling like an idiot and making friends with everyone, which made Naoki wonder why the hell the dumb blonde even decided to become a shinobi in the first place.

"Thank you for the match," said Namikaze Minato, who had the gall to look apologetic for doing what he was supposed to do and beating a weaker opponent. He didn't have a single scratch on him. Worse, he stretched out his hand to help his opponent back up because he was pointlessly nice.

"Thank you for the match," Naoki echoed flatly, accepting the offered hand because it would have been childish to slap it away. It was only an Academy spar, and he could hardly call himself a shinobi if he got angry over such a trivial little thing.

Their taijutsu instructor jotted a few final notes into his logbook before snapping it shut and announcing, "And that's it for the day. Get outta here, brats."

Naoki quickly stepped out of the sparring ring, and just in time too, because his classmates immediately swarmed into the ring to surround Namikaze. This was followed by a cacophony of requests like 'Minato-kun, could you help me with the infiltration and disguise assignment? ( _New Quest! Survive Yako's Super Glitter Magical Girl Make-Over!_ _ **Accept**_ _| Cancel_ )', 'Um, w-we should probably clean up the training field f-first! _(New Quest! Harvest the Free Shuriken Left on the Training Field!_ _ **Accept**_ _| Cancel_ )', and 'Screw that, teach us that kickass explosion jutsu you used, Namikaze! ( _New Quest! Sow the Seeds of Mayhem and Disaster!_ _ **Accept**_ _| Cancel_ )'. Of course, Namikaze, being a complete pushover, just let them drag him off with barely a token protest.

Naoki just rolled his eyes and trudged towards the training fields.

Every minute that Namikaze wasted was a minute Naoki could use to close the gap. It might not be today, it might not even be tomorrow, but one day, for sure, Naoki would make sure Namikaze Minato regretted it.

. . .

"That'll be 200 ryo," growled the grizzled old shopkeeper, who didn't even bother to take the cigarette out of his mouth or to look up from the magazine he was reading.

Naoki bit back several bad words. 200 ryo for a roll of bandages? That was an entire month's allowance. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he could just hide his hands in his pockets until he got back to his own room, but glumly realized that there was no way his mother wouldn't notice the stray cuts when he came down for dinner. He was already going to catch hell for injuring himself; he didn't want to imagine what she'd do if she found out that he skipped proper first aid too.

The only other option was to drop by the hospital and explain to a medic that he had been stupid enough to ricochet one of his own shuriken at himself. Between facing his mother and facing a frazzled, over-worked medic, Naoki was at least reasonably sure his mother wouldn't murder him out of frustration.

Resigned, Naoki opened his wallet and started counting out the amount due. Just as he was about to place the money on the shop counter, however, the bell on the shop's door rang as another customer entered.

The shopkeeper glanced up from his magazine briefly, and the corners of his lips actually twitched upwards for a brief moment before settling back into his dour frown.

"Back again, brat?" he drawled.

"Sorry for disturbing you so late, Nakamura-san," said an all too familiar voice. With a faint feeling of dread, Naoki glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough, there stood Namikaze Minato, inclining his head politely as he ducked inside. When he caught sight of Naoki, his entire countenance brightened, and he added, "Good evening to you too, Shimura-kun."

Naoki simply deadpanned, "Namikaze."

The blonde didn't seem offended by the curt response, however, because he smiled warmly before heading over to the stationary aisle. Then, he systematically gathered every single piece of sealing paper into a single stack, which he brought over to the counter, completely ignoring the fact that Naoki was in the middle of making a purchase. The shopkeeper looked on with an annoyed sort of fondness as he muttered, "We just got more this morning and you're already clearing the shelves. How many seals could you possibly need?"

"Not that many more. I'm almost done grinding level 10 Intermediate Fuinjutsu to unlock paperless seals," Namikaze said sheepishly, as if what he said made any actual sense.

The shopkeeper seemed used to Namikaze's nonsense, however, because he just shrugged and did a quick count of the sheets of sealing paper before saying, "That'll be sixteen thousand and eight hundred ryo."

Naoki boggled as Namikaze forked over the ridiculous amount of money. ( _Items Lost: 16800 g._ ) ( _Items Gained: Blank Sealing Tags [x200]._ ) That was more than three entire D-ranks' worth of pay! Wasn't Namikaze an orphan? Where on earth was he getting that kind of cash?

That question quickly answered itself, however, because Namikaze pulled a sealing scroll out of his pocket and said, "I'd like to sell this too."

' _That's not how shops work, idiot,'_ Naoki wanted to say, but before he could, the old shopkeeper nodded and said, "What've you got this time?"

"Mostly just vendor trash, but I've got some old equipment that I don't need any more as well," Namikaze said, unsealing the scroll.

Immediately, the counter was swallowed up in a mountain of...of what could only be described as _garbage_. Naoki backpedaled just in time to avoid being swallowed by the cascade. There were bits of scrap metal, various animal parts, pieces of broken wood, scraps of cloth, dried plants, empty bottles, and many, many more assorted pieces of junk that Naoki didn't recognize.

Hidden behind the pile, the shopkeeper's muffled voice said, "I'll give you nine thousand ryo for the lot of it."

Namikaze – who was buried so deeply in the pile that only the tips of his bright blonde hair were still visible – somehow sealed all the junk back into the scroll and handed it to the shopkeeper, who returned the better half of the stack of cash Namikaze just handed him.

( _Items Lost: Diseased Rat Liver [x28], Twisted Metal Scrap [x31], Small Animal Bone [x112], Large Animal Bone [x19], Tattered Cloth [x6], Broken Branches [x11], River Reeds [x72], Leaky Bottles [x12], Poor Quality Mesh Shirt, Poor Quality Cotton Pants, Worn Leather Sandals._ ) ( _Items Gained: +9000g._ )

Somewhere in the exchange, all of the sealing paper had disappeared off the counter as well. Namikaze bowed low towards the shopkeeper in gratitude, then gave Naoki a cheerful wave goodbye before heading back out of the store, leaving no sign that he had ever been there save for the suddenly bare fuinjutsu shelves.

It took Naoki's mind a few tries before it managed to shake off disbelief and resuscitate his common sense.

"Why...why would you buy...?" Naoki trailed off, settling for a frustrated sweep of his arms as he tried and failed to find an adequate word to describe all of the random things that Namikaze had just successfully sold to a store that didn't buy things in the first place.

The shopkeeper settled back in his chair and took a long, slow drag off his cigarette. Then he leaned back in his chair and sighed through a mouthful of smoke, "Long story. One I ain't got the patience to tell, kid." He fixed Naoki with a stern, beady eye and growled, "Now do you want the damn bandages or not?"

Giving it up as a lost cause, Naoki paid for the stupid bandages and went home.

. . .

Of course, on the one day he got home later than usual, his mother was already waiting outside the door for him. Her face fixed in a carefully bland smile, but her lips were white from how hard she was pressing them together. Naoki didn't need his shinobi training to read her expression, because he had seen that look far too many times before.

It meant that she was super angry, but was hiding it because they had guests over.

"I was beginning to worry you had gotten lost," his mother said evenly, but when she grabbed hold of him to lead him around to the back the house, her fingers dug into his arm like a vice. Naoki carefully fought down a wince of pain and calmly observed that, for some unknown reason, _he_ was one she was angry at.

They hurried through the backyard and avoided the main foyer on their way up to Naoki's room. The shoji doors were shut, but Naoki could vaguely make out several silhouettes and hear the low tones of his father speaking with an unfamiliar guest as they passed by. A formal kimono was already laid out on his bed when Naoki got to his room – the nice silk one that his mother only made him wear on really special occasions.

So their guest was someone really important then, and had already arrived while Naoki was wasting time with Namikaze's shenanigans. No wonder his mother was pissed.

Thankfully, she didn't have time to berate him as she swiftly cleaned him up and helped him change into his clothes. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly when she saw the bandages around his hands, but he had bound the injury as neatly as possible, so she let it slide to Naoki's relief.

Giving him a final once-over, his mother decided that he passed muster and herded him to the downstairs sitting room.

"A thousand apologies for the delay," his mother said as she slid open the shoji doors and bowed deeply towards their guest. Stepping to one side, she said, "My son, Naoki, has finally deigned to join us." She didn't even try to hide the disapproval in her voice.

Naoki stepped forward and performed a formal dogeza as he said, "Please forgive my rudeness." When he looked up, however, he nearly choked on his own spit in surprise.

Seated across from his father was none other than the clan head, Danzo-sama himself. Clad all in black, his dark eyes, dark hair, and numerous battle scars gave him an aura of intimidation, even seated as casually as he was. When the man's eyes came to rest on him, Naoki could almost feel a sense of heaviness settle over his shoulders, as if he was pinned under the paw of some great creature who could crush him with a thought.

He gulped and schooled his face into what he hoped was a suitably respectful expression.

There was a tense pause as Danzo brought the teacup to his lips, drank, and set it back down again. All while his gaze remained fixed on Naoki. Then, at last, he said, "You have much reason to be proud."

"Not at all. He is still lacking in many places," his father said modestly, but there was still a sting of truth in those words as his father's eyes briefly flickered over towards him.

"He is uniquely suited to the task at hand," said Danzo.

His father, for the first time in Naoki's memory, seemed to hesitate. Naoki caught the faint whitening of his father's knuckles as his hands tightened into fists, and there was a noticeable strain in his father's voice as he finally bowed his head and said, "...then we are honored to place him in your service, Danzo-sama."

His father then stood, and to Naoki's surprise, walked towards the door. He paused to lay his hand on Naoki's shoulder and squeeze, but whether he meant it as a warning or as reassurance, Naoki couldn't tell.

There was the sound of the shoji doors sliding shut behind him, then, rather suddenly, Naoki found himself alone.

"Come. Sit," Danzo said with simple gesture of his arm that carried all the force of a command.

Naoki stiffly obeyed. His mind was reeling with questions, but he dared not speak them aloud as Danzo went through the quick, efficient motions of pouring him a cup of tea. The room was so quiet that Naoki was sure that everyone present could hear his heartbeat accelerating.

"I hear that your scores at the Academy are exemplary," Danzo began, "and that you excel in every shinobi art."

Naoki inwardly prayed that his voice held steady. He said, "I have good teachers."

"Indeed. But it is not the Academy teachers you speak of." Danzo said.

Naoki froze for a moment, but Danzo held up a hand, saying, "You may speak freely. I do not agree with many of Hiruzen's policies, and the Academy is one we have argued over since the beginning. Tell me, have you learned anything of value there?"

"I...no," Naoki glumly confessed. "It's a waste of time."

"So I thought." Danzo took another drink of tea. "The Academy teaches the Will of Fire, but it does not teach that every flame casts an equal shadow. You cannot have one without the other. Shinobi are the same. We may all be part of the great tree, but while some are made to be the leaves under the sun, others are made to be the roots in the dark."

He fixed Naoki with a piercing look that cut right down to the quick.

"So tell me, what kind of shinobi were you made to be, Shimura Naoki?"

Naoki felt a bead of cold sweat roll down his forehead, thankfully hidden behind his bangs. His heart was a racing drumbeat. It seemed like every hair was standing on end.

Even so, he bowed his head and said, "Whatever kind you need me to be, Danzo-sama." That sounded like the right answer. He hoped.

There was a clatter. Naoki looked up to see that Danzo had thrown a white porcelain mask onto the table. It looked like an ANBU mask, but it was shaped like no particular animal and had no markings whatsoever. Just two dark eye-holes staring back up at him. Naoki didn't dare to reach for it, not when ANBU masks were an honor reserved for only the most loyal, the most skilled, and the most esteemed shinobi in the entire village.

So Danzo pushed it towards him instead.

"It is yours to take," the man said, "If you choose to don it, then from this day forth, you will have two faces. Under the light, you will be Shimura Naoki. But in the darkness, your true face shall be the face of Konoha's ROOT, Hanoe."

Naoki picked up the mask and felt a chill run through him. This. This was his path to becoming a true shinobi, to becoming someone like Danzo-sama. He carefully turned it over in his hands, running his fingers along the subtle curves, and when he looked back up, Danzo was smiling faintly, with a glimmer of acknowledgement in his eye.

"Good," Danzo said curtly, "because I have a mission for you, Hanoe."

Naoki tried not to burst with pride. He shifted, changing from the formal seiza position he had been sitting in to the half-kneeling pose of a shinobi reporting for duty. It had the side benefit of hiding his rather un-shinobi-like grin too.

"Yes, sir!" he said, trying to sound calm and professional despite the thrill of excitement humming in his veins. This was really happening. He was really getting his very first mission from Danzo himself.

"It is an observation mission. We suspect one of your colleagues to be an infiltrator from a hostile party. You are to ascertain the truth without arousing suspicion," Danzo said.

Danzo finished, "Your target is Namikaze Minato."

' _What_?' Naoki thought.

"What?" Naoki blurted out loud, because his train of thought had just chugged off a mental cliff and sailed right out of his mouth.

Namikaze Minato was suspected of being a spy? _Namikaze_ _Minato_?! Naoki tried to imagine the happy-go-lucky blonde as a dastardly double agent and drew a complete blank. No matter how talented, Namikaze was still an Academy student, just like him. Granted, Naoki had just been recruited for a secret organization that protected Konoha from the shadows, so that might not be the best comparison, but still. No infiltrator would waste their time letting the girls from his class plaster his face with makeup so that they could get 'practice' before trying it on themselves.

What could possibly have made Danzo think such a ridiculous -

\- no, wait. There had to be something more to it. A true shinobi must look underneath the underneath. Which was more reasonable? Namikaze Minato being an infiltrator, or Danzo being mistaken? The answer was that both were unreasonable.

' _This is a test,_ ' Naoki realized.

Danzo already knew everything about him. The man could see right through Naoki from the very beginning. Of course, this mission had nothing to do with Namikaze Minato, not really. It was about Naoki, about whether he could follow orders even when they seemed absurd and keep his own personal feelings from affecting his mission performance. It was a baited trap, and if he let his personal distaste for Namikaze bias his report, then Naoki would fail. A true shinobi didn't question their orders. A true shinobi eliminated their own ego.

The dawning realization must have been written all over Naoki's face, because Danzo gave a curt nod and said, "I see you understand quickly."

Naoki steeled himself and declared, "I will not fail, Danzo-sama."

Shimura Naoki would become a true shinobi.

. . .

There was, however, one minor complication that ROOT Operative Hanoe overlooked.

Following Namikaze Minato was the most haphazard, aggravating, and bewildering task Hanoe had ever undertaken.

Left to his own devices, Namikaze bounced all over Konoha like a deranged rabbit, juggling so many favors, errands, and messages that it made Hanoe's head spin. One moment, he was helping a civilian kid find her lost cat, and the next, he was pulling weeds from a lady's flowerbed. He would wander off into the surrounding forests to collect acorns. He would disappear into the sewers to hunt rats. There was no rhyme or reason to his bizarre behavior, no pattern to the people he helped, and no apparent motivation other than an obsession to help as many people as possible in the least amount of time.

Hanoe realized with growing horror that the reason everyone in Konoha was talking about Namikaze wasn't because they were enamored with their newest prodigy. It was because Namikaze was literally _everywhere_ , talking to _everyone_.

It was a miracle that Konoha's genin teams had any D-rank missions left.

Namikaze managed to throw Hanoe off his trail three days in a row without even realizing that he was being followed. At this rate, Hanoe's forehead would be permanently bruised from where he had repeatedly banged it against a wall.

Was this really how Namikaze spent all of his time? Running petty errands for people who didn't even matter? All while Naoki trained his ass off and still couldn't put a land a single hit in their spars? His father always told him that geniuses were only geniuses because they worked harder than anyone, but if Namikaze had been slacking off this entire time...

Hanoe realized he was audibly grinding his teeth and immediately stopped.

All of these thoughts were ultimately pointless. He had a mission, and he was resolved to see it through no matter what. He would follow Namikaze no matter what this time. He had multiple disguises packed into his backpack. He had smuggled a soldier pill of his father's equipment bag. He even resolved to leave his useless sense of propriety behind, because if Namikaze was gonna brazenly trespass onto private property, then Hanoe had no choice but to brazenly follow.

It took seven hours, seven goddamn hours, before Namikaze called off his daily errand blitz. By then, night had long since fallen and the streets of Konoha were nearly empty. Hanoe was already dead on his feet. He was just waiting for Namikaze to go home and call it a day so that he could do the same.

Instead, to Hanoe's dismay, Namikaze sat down on a park bench under a particularly bright street lamp and took out a stack of sealing paper, a calligraphy brush, and an ink stone.

( _Recipe: LVL 3 Exploding Tag. Required: Blank Sealing Tag [410/1], Chakra Ink [388/1], [00:00:30])  
(Craft: LVL 3 Exploding Tag [x200] __**Accept**_ _| Cancel )_

He started making some kind of sealing tag. From his concealed perch in a nearby tree, Hanoe couldn't make out what the seals were, but he could tell that every single one was the exact same. Namikaze churned them out at a blinding pace. His motions were mindlessly repetitive and eerily perfect, as if an Uchiha had copied the motions and was reenacting them over and over again with perfect fidelity.

Even so, it became completely mind-numbing to watch after the first fifteen minutes. Hanoe nearly fell out of the tree several times as his heavy eyes fought to stay open. Did Namikaze not feel the need to sleep? The Academy had started at seven in the morning, and it was almost midnight by now. Naoki's own bedtime had come and gone three hours ago.

Tag after tag, the stack of unused sealing papers diminished as the pile of completed tags grew. After what felt like an eternity, Namikaze finally put the finishing strokes on the last page.

( _Crafting Complete_ ) ( _Items Lost: Blank Sealing Tags [x200], Chakra Ink [x200]._ ) ( _Items Gained: LVL 3 Exploding Tags [x200]._ )  
( _Your Intermediate Sealing Skill has risen._ )  
( _-Ding-! Intermediate Sealing has increased to LVL 10! You have learned the subskill: Paperless Sealing.)_

Hanoe barely made it down the tree in time to follow Namikaze out of the park. He was so tired that he could barely put one foot in front of the other in a straight line. Thank the Sage that Namikaze's hair was so bright; it was easy to follow him through the streets as it got darker the further from the residential district they went.

Wait, something was wrong here. Hanoe's tired brain sparked back to life. Why were they _leaving_ the residential area? The only thing further along in this direction were the training fields...which Namikaze also walked past. Hanoe's feeling of dread only grew as they passed left the last of the normal training fields behind and headed towards the heavily fenced off area where all the specialized training fields were.

' _You've got to be kidding me,_ ' Hanoe thought as Namikaze led them to a specific training ground that Hanoe had heard plenty of stories about, but never, ever wanted to enter.

Training Ground 44. Also known as the Forest of Death.

Namikaze Minato was climbing the fence.

' _Yeah, there's no way I'm following him in there_ ,' Hanoe thought to himself, ' _Just, nope. Nope, nope, so much nope._ '

If Namikaze wanted to get himself killed, that was his prerogative.

ROOT Operative Hanoe, or rather, Shimura Naoki, was going to go home and get some goddamn sleep.

. . .

"Wow, Naoki, you look like crap," Akimichi said bluntly as Naoki trudged into the classroom.

Naoki made a noncommittal grunt and flopped down in his seat, resting his head against the nice, cool surface of the desk.

He heard the scrape of a chair, then a voice that would probably haunt his nightmares said, "Good morning, Shimura-kun."

It was Namikaze fucking Minato, who somehow looked as energetic as always, his halo of bright blonde hair shining in the morning light like a miniature sun. There wasn't a single scratch anywhere to be found. No bags under his eyes either.

How. What. Why. Who. _How_?

Naoki managed to stay awake during all his classes through sheer fury. If looks could kill, Namikaze would have twin holes drilled through the back of his skull from the force of Naoki's glare.

His mind was made up. He would complete Danzo-sama's mission even if it killed him. The moment class ended, Naoki popped a soldier pill into his mouth and chewed through the foul, bitter taste without a single flinch. There would be hell to pay when it wore off, but if the pill lived up to its advertised effect of three days and three nights without needing rest, then he should be able to sleep it off over the weekend.

Naoki was already wise to all of Namikaze's shenanigans. He followed the blonde through the women's bathhouse without blushing. He climbed the same unguarded section of wall to get into the Senju compound when Namikaze delivered a letter to Mito-sama. He raced ahead to the manhole that he knew Namikaze would reappear from when the blonde decided to take another jaunt through the underground sewers.

He waited silently in the tree as Namikaze made another batch of sealing tags.

Then, at the stroke of midnight, he followed Namikaze to Training Ground 44.

There had to be some kind of trick to it, how Namikaze was getting in and out unscathed, and Naoki was determined to find out what it was. Or rather, Hanoe had orders to find out, no matter how terrifying the stories about this place might be.

Naoki slipped the blank white mask out of his Academy backpack and pulled it down over his face. He was no longer Shimura Naoki, Academy student. He was Root Operative Hanoe, and he knew no fear.

The moment Namikaze over the fence, Hanoe followed right after in a few heartbeats, dropping down on the other side with only a muffled 'thump' in the grass to cushion his landing.

( _Warning: You do not meet the recommended level for this zone!_ )

He looked up to see Namikaze disappearing into the dark forest. Time to put his stealth and tracking training to good use. If Namikaze could make it through this place unscathed, then so could he. If he just stayed aware and alert, then he should be able to outrun anything that came after him even if he couldn't beat it in a straight fight.

That confidence lasted until he heard the sounds of fighting ahead.

His heart missed a beat. Surely, not even Namikaze was that crazy, right?

Careful not to make any sound that might give him away, Hanoe took to the canopy, hopping from branch to branch to reach the sounds of conflict without being seen.

Oh Sage, it turned out Namikaze really _was_ that crazy. The air trembled as the roar of a massive tiger filled the forest, and its paw lashed out in a strike that would probably smash a human into unrecognizable pulp. The small blonde dodged the blow by a hairsbreadth and hopped across a small river, flinging a shuriken at the tiger as he fled. It missed by a scratch, leaving a small red line across the tiger's flank before embedding itself into a tree.

The tiger made a few ineffectual swipes at the blonde before realizing that it couldn't reach the other bank. It snarled as the shuriken stung at its pelt before its mighty muscles bunched up and it cleared the water in a single bound.

Namikaze danced back across the river to the other side. Then he retrieved his shuriken and flung it back, missing again with a scratch.

Hanoe watched slack-jawed as Namikaze kited the tiger back and forth across the river, always a few seconds away from becoming mincemeat, but also always just a split second faster to get across the water than the apex predator. Namikaze was _training_. Throwing projectiles at a moving target ( _Your Shuriken skill has risen._ ), instantaneous water walking ( _Your Chakra Control skill has risen._ ), and dodging in poor visibility ( _Your Evade skill has risen._ ) – things that sane people trained using a target, a pond, and a blindfold respectively. Not a tiger, a running river, and a forest at the dead of night, because no one was that suicidal.

And yet, it was working. The scratches were slowly building up and getting deeper. The tiger was still nowhere near dead, but it was visibly slowing down as the cuts started to cause it pain.

Hanoe was so engrossed in watching the fight below him, however, that he didn't hear the sibilant hiss behind him until it was already too late.

When he turned, the open maw of the snake was already surging towards him, wide enough to swallow him whole. He didn't have time for anything except a strangled scream.

( _You have used the skill: Body Flicker._ ) Death, however, was intercepted by a yellow flash. ( _Your Body Flicker skill has risen._ )

Something yanked hard on Hanoe's arm, nearly ripping it out of its socket, and the forest suddenly disappeared into a flash of blinding light as the roar of an explosion drowned out all other sound and left his ears ringing. ( _Items Lost: LVL 3 Exploding Tag!_ ) The mask protected him from the worst of the blast, but even through his sleeves, he could feel how the skin on his arms had been scalded by the heat.

( _-Ding- You have slain: Hanging Willow Python! EXP gained: +5.89%_ )

His back slammed into the ground. On instinct alone, he rolled with his momentum, curling up to protect his head as he bounced violently through the undergrowth.

There was a 'crunch' of someone landing heavily next to him, and when Hanoe finally blinked away the dancing spots in his vision, he saw Namikaze Minato gazing down at him with blonde hair streaked in both soot and twigs. It was the first time he had seen the blonde look anything less than pristine.

"Shimura," Namikaze said, and this time there was no polite honorific at the end, only a hard, flat edge to Namikaze's voice that left no room for argument, "You pulled aggro, and everything in here will one-shot you. The tower at the center is a safe zone. You need to run."

' _Run.'_ Like finding a long-lost puzzle piece, an old memory finally wiggled loose in Naoki's brain.

There had been a dark room, once, where he had fought a clone of himself and lost. The memory had been murky due to exhaustion, but Naoki remembered now. Namikaze had come through the door, another clone had formed, and then suddenly, a copy of Namikaze Minato had charged towards him with murder in its eyes.

Death had been intercepted by a yellow flash back then too. It had been the first time that Naoki had been forced to admit a truth that he adamantly tried to ignore: as a shinobi, Namikaze Minato was out of his league.

So Naoki ran.

He had lost his mask somewhere in the fall. The sharp edges of branches and leaves tore at his face as he tore through them. He heard howls, hisses, and clicks in the darkness, glimpsed flashing teeth and gleaming out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't stop running to see what kind of beasts they belonged to. The moon was nothing more than a thin sliver in the sky, but it was enough, just barely, to see the black silhouette of the tower against the night sky. Almost there. Almost safe.

Thank the Sage for that soldier pill. He pushed himself past his top speed, past the limits of what his usual chakra pool would allow, and the soldier pill in his bloodstream burned with the extra chakra he needed to keep running. He put on a burst of speed the moment the base of the tower was in sight and didn't stop until he felt himself crash into the hard, concrete wall.

Finally, he dared to look back.

The moonlight glinted off dozens of beastly eyes that watched him hungrily, but Namikaze had been telling the truth, and nothing dangerous approached the tower. Naoki sank down against the wall in relief, gasping for breath.

Then he waited, for god only knew how long, until the sharp cry of birds suddenly taking flight from a nearby tree and a whistle of rushing wind heralded Namikaze's arrival.

He was covered from head to toe in grime this time, and in the dim light, it was hard to tell how much was dirt and how much was blood. The grime glistened darkly, though, Naoki had a sinking feeling that most of it was blood. Even Namikaze's bright blonde hair had lost its usual brilliance.

But his eyes were hard and bright, like steel.

Namikaze held out something smooth and white towards him.

It was his porcelain ROOT mask, with a crack running straight through the left eye. Naoki swallowed, and took it. There was no point in denying the obvious.

Namikaze asked quietly, "Danzo?"

It was more of a statement than a question, so Naoki didn't bother to answer. The two of them lapsed into an uneasy silence before Namikaze shifted and sat down next to Naoki, letting out a small sigh.

"I didn't think he'd single you out this early," Namikaze said with a wry smile, "though in hindsight, that's probably my fault. He probably thought I'd let my guard down around a classmate. So, uh, sorry about that."

Oh. Well, that explained a lot. Naoki suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

'Suspected of being an infiltrator', those were the words Danzo had used. The mission had been a test after all. Just not a test for Naoki. It had been a test for Namikaze Minato all along, and Naoki had only been the bait in the trap. Danzo hadn't acknowledged him at all. Hadn't valued him for anything except his convenience in a greater plan.

Underneath the underneath, Shimura Naoki had been nothing more than a tool after all. Wasn't that what true shinobi were meant to be? He got what he wanted, but it didn't make him feel happy at all. Instead, his throat ached, his eyes burned, and he desperately wanted to punch someone in the face.

Oh hell no, if he cried in front of Namikaze Minato of all people, he would spontaneously combust from embarrassment.

Namikaze Minato, who would have been the dumbest infiltrator in the world, politely stared up at the sky and pretended not to notice as Naoki smeared his dirty sleeve across his face to hide the sniffle.

"Who the hell are you anyway?" Naoki growled, latching onto his annoyance to distract himself. If there was one thing Namikaze was good for, it was being a constant source of frustration.

"A great Hokage, someday," Namikaze answered blithely ( _Title Selected: Walking the Path of Fire and Shadow, +5% EXP gain_ ), as if they were still in an Academy classroom and going around sharing what their dreams for the future were. "even if it's a really long quest chain, and grinding charisma is basically all RNG."

Then he stood, dusting himself off, and said, "Which is why I need the levels more than I need the faction points."

"Why is it that nothing you say ever makes any sense," Naoki groaned, but he got to his feet as well.

Namikaze just smiled and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. Naoki recognized it immediately as the same kind of tag that Namikaze had been making earlier.

"You might want to cover your ears," Namikaze said, and that was Naoki's only warning before Namikaze lit the tag, attached it to a kunai, and tossed it as hard as he could at a large boulder in the distance.

It detonated with an earthshaking 'boom'. ( _Items Lost: LVL 3 Exploding Tag!_ )

' _I guess that explains how he killed the snake,_ ' Naoki thought.

The first explosion, however, seemed to set off tags that had been hidden in the surroundings, and the first blast was followed by four or five more simultaneously, which in turn triggered even more explosions, until Naoki was forced to brace himself against the tower wall as the entire forest was blown sky high. It was too bright to open his eyes and too loud to hear anything beyond the deafening roar of fiery destruction. The ground shook so violently that it knocked him to his knees.

( _-Ding- You have slain: Brush Tiger [x11], Iron Beak Falcon [x15], Giant Man-Eating Centipede [x16], Poisonous Centipede [x84], Southern Praying Mantis [x10], Yellow Tail Wasps [x31], Vine Snake [x59], Hanging Willow Python [x17], Giant Blood Leech [x23], Blood Leech [x115], Drop Bear (x19), Freshwater Piranha [x21], Ancient Fish of the Depths! EXP Gained: +1529.98%!_ )

( _-Ding- Level up! You are now level 16! +5 Attribute Points!_ )  
( _-Ding- Level up! You are now level 17! +5 Attribute Points!_ )  
( _-Ding- Level up! You are now level 18! +5 Attribute Points!_ )  
( _-Ding- Level up! You are now level 19! +5 Attribute Points!_ )  
( _-Ding- Level up! You are now level 20! +5 Attribute Points!_ )  
( _-Ding- Level up! You are now level 21! +5 Attribute Points!_ )  
( _-Ding- Level up! You are now level 22! +5 Attribute Points!_ )  
( _-Ding- Level up! You are now level 23! +5 Attribute Points!_ )  
( _-Ding- Level up! You are now level 24! +5 Attribute Points!_ )  
( _-Ding- Level up! You are now level 25! +5 Attribute Points!_ )  
( _-Ding- Level up! You are now level 26! +5 Attribute Points!_ )  
( _-Ding- Level up! You are now level 27! +5 Attribute Points!_ )  
( _-Ding- Level up! You are now level 28! +5 Attribute Points!_ )  
( _-Ding- Level up! You are now level 29! +5 Attribute Points!_ )  
( _-Ding- Level up! You are now level 30! +5 Attribute Points!_ )  
( _Achievement Unlocked: Up to Eleven – Defeat 10 enemies in a single turn._ )  
( _Achievement Unlocked: One Man Army – Defeat 100 enemies in a single turn._ )  
( _Achievement Unlocked: Weak but Skilled – Defeat an enemy more than 10 levels higher than you._ )

"What. The Fuck. Was that?" Naoki gasped when the explosions finally died down.

The forest was _gone_. There was nothing but broken husks of trees and charred earth in every direction he looked. The scorch marks ended distressingly close to the tower itself – what would have happened to them if Namikaze misjudged the size of the explosions?

"Level three exploding tags," Namikaze answered mildly, "They do three hundred points of AOE damage, and setting one off with another bypasses the item cooldown." He glanced off into the distance and broke into a smile, saying, "Looks like the ANBU are coming."

Naoki opened his mouth, then closed it without saying anything. There were so many questions that he didn't even know where to start, but the most pressing was probably: exactly how much trouble they were in for completely obliterating a training ground that had existed since the founding of Konoha? And while Danzo's mission might have been bogus from the start, how badly was Naoki going to be punished for failing it in such a spectacular fashion?

Namikaze seemed to sense his depressed mood, and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Don't worry," the sunshine blonde said, "You're not in as much trouble as you think. Though, I should probably apologize in advance, because this might hurt a little."

"Wha-?" Naoki began in alarm, but before he could even finish the first word, Namikaze _blurred_ , too fast for the eye to see, and all Naoki felt was a sharp blow to gut that drove all of the air out of his lungs in a single whoosh. ( _You have used the skill: Stunning Strike._ ) He collapsed to his knees, his vision already blacking out from the edges. ( _Your Stunning Strike skill has risen._ )

Naoki gasped like a dying fish, "Nami- !"

. . .

"—kaze!" Naoki woke with a shout out as he bolted upright in a hospitable bed.

"Well, that's certainly an understandable sentiment," said a kindly voice next to his bedside, and when Naoki turned to look, he got yet another surprise in what felt like an endless chain of bewildering events that was somehow always Namikaze's fault.

"S-Sandaime-sama," Naoki stuttered, and did his best to bow his head respectfully despite being in a hospital bed.

The man chuckled, however, and said, "There's no need for any of that."

The hospital room was otherwise empty, Naoki realized, despite the fact that there were three other beds in the low-priority care room. He could see two ANBU through the viewing window on the door who were probably posted to guard the Hokage as a matter of standard protocol.

The Hokage sighed and said, "I suppose it's too much to expect you to relax when you hardly know what's going on. You have questions, I'm sure. Since I fear I have several things I must ask of you as well, it seems only fair to allow you the courtesy of asking first."

"Am I in trouble?" was the first thing he asked, obviously.

At this, the Hokage chuckled. "For what happened to Training Ground 44? Haha, no. It is not the first time an aspiring Konoha ninja has blown up a training field, and it certainly won't be the last…even if the scale is a bit larger than usual this time."

"What about Namikaze?" Naoki asked.

"Out of town to visit distant relatives," the Sandaime said wryly, "He submitted the leave of absence forms a week ago."

"What? But he was the one who - "

"Officially, at least," the Sandaime interrupted, and then paused to give Naoki a considering look.

He was being given a choice, Naoki realized with a start.

Steeling himself, Naoki asked, "...where is he, really?"

"The unofficial report indicates that he is fleeing towards Kiri, to betray whatever intel he gathered to the village that sent him," Sandaime said tiredly, "From the tracking squad's latest communications, that does indeed seem to be the direction he is headed."

Naoki leaned back against his pillows, stunned. Was Namikaze Minato was actually an infiltrator all along? But that didn't make any sense, why would -

"But of course, I suspect this is simply a ploy to get around me and claim yet another bright young talent for ROOT, as Danzo has been attempting to do so for years," Sandaime continued, sending Naoki's thoughts spinning in the opposite direction. "There are also certain political factions that are unhappy with the prospect of a civilian orphan outperforming the rest of his generation. If Namikaze-kun hadn't made himself so highly visible, I believe he would simply have been quietly disappeared for one reason or another."

That sent Naoki's head spinning in the two entirely new directions. Did the Sandaime know about his mission from Danzo? Did the Sandaime actually know everything? Was this another test? Was he already failing it? Did Namikaze actually go around Konoha doing all those stupid errands to keep himself from being disappeared? What did that even mean? There were so many layers underneath the underneath that Naoki could feel his brain melting into sludge just trying to process it all.

So instead, Naoki settled for, "Why are you telling me all this? It's not like Namikaze and I are friends."

"No, but you _are_ rivals, and sometimes, a good rival is just as important as a good friend," the Sandaime said, smiling, "Danzo is many things, but he's always had a good eye for talent. Just don't walk so far into the shadows that you forget what's casting them in the first place, Naoki-kun. A true shinobi must be both the fire and the shadow – the ideal Hokage."

The current Hokage reached out and tapped Naoki right over his heart knowingly, and Naoki felt a tremble spread through all of his bones at the acknowledgement. He wanted to speak, but there was a lump in his throat that made it hard to get the words out. In the end, he just settled for a grateful nod as the Sandaime left him alone with his thoughts.

Shimura Naoki had a lot to think about.

. . .

"Are you sure telling him so much was wise, Sandaime-sama?" asked one of the Anbu.

The Hokage smiled around his pipe as he lit it, puffing on it once before answering, "Danzo's gotten too comfortable with the blind faith his subordinates offer. A little bit of dissent will be a good reminder for him. The village exists to protect what we love, after all. Not to mold us into what we hate."

. . .

Three days later, the markets of Uzushio were in an uproar.

"Gotta be better than that!" the red-haired girl crowed in triumph as she bounced from ledge to ledge, propelling herself straight up the side of the building until she was perched at the very top.

Her caretaker wheezed and gasped from the street below, calling out feebly, "Please, Kushina-hime! Come down! You're going to hurt yourself!"

She just grinned from ear to ear and blew a raspberry before bolting across the roof and taking a running leap onto the adjacent building, all to the music of her caretaker's cry of dismay. Hah! That'll teach them to lock her up in a room to practice her calligraphy for so many days in a row. And besides, her handwriting was fine! Who cared if the third stroke of a character was half a millimeter thicker than the second?

"Hime!" Another voice cried out, and Kushina looked across the rooftops to see several of her clan ninja speeding towards her as well. Crap. Rooftops were a no-go then.

She took another running leap off the roof, her fingers latching onto a gutter on the opposite building as she kicked off it and caught a clothesline on her way down. Latching onto a particularly sturdy looking bedsheet, she used it to zip down the line onto an open patio, and jumped from there onto the cloth canopy of a stall below that slid her neatly onto the street again.

"Catch me if you can!" Kushina yelled over her shoulder as she sprinted around a corner.

Only to crash headfirst into someone. Someone small, because she bowled them right over, and they both went crashing down in a confused tangle of limbs. When the world finally righted itself, Kushina found herself straddling a rather dusty-looking blond who was around her age.

Instead of seeming stunned or outraged at being summarily run over, however, his face broke out into the biggest, dopiest smile she had ever seen.

"Kushina," he wheezed, gazing up at her with eyes that were so brilliantly blue they couldn't possibly be real, "I came to save you."

. . .

 _Authors Note:_

 _This chapter killed me. I am dead. I also dragged this chapter into death with me, because I'm petty like that._

 _Luckily, I have a fantastic, awesome, incredible, miracle-working beta-reader that managed to resurrect both of us. Give up a round of applause for_ _ **MoonlitMelody**_ _, because without them, this chapter would still be buried six feet under beneath a pile of horrendous typos and plot holes. Likewise, special thanks to_ _ **Lupegarou4488**_ _for encouragement, fantastic world-building advice, and a much needed second opinion._

 _That being said, I am happy to say that the derailing has officially begun. Attention all passengers, this trainwreck is now departing from Canon Station. We may revisit it later, but it will most likely be destroyed beyond all recognition by the time we return._

 _Hopefully, the chapter length will soon stabilize, because if they keep getting 4000 words longer every time, then this story really WILL kill me._


End file.
